It wasn’t exactly sweet nothings being whispered into my ear. In fact, it was more like harsh expletive-filled directives being screamed into my subconscious. I also remember a fist being driven into my ribs. Repeatedly.

Was I being robbed? Abducted? Murdered? No, worse: I was being woken up at some ungodly hour, like 10:30 p.m. or something, by my normally-loving wife.

“Get the (bleep) out of bed,” she said.

“Gasahrahwwwwlachhhpt,” I replied.

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I then grabbed my pillow and stumbled down the stairs to the living room couch. Let the record show the couch is way too short for my 6-foot-3-inch frame and was being occupied, as it always is, by our wire fox terrier who’s more than a little possessive of his nighttime sofa spot. The dog gets snarly should you attempt to rouse him.

“What I really want to do,” she has threatened on more than one occasion, “is record you snoring and then play it back when you’re trying to go to sleep just so you know what it’s like.”

Ladies and gentlemen, my wife, the next great Guantanamo interrogator.

Anyway, add all this up, and I’m just about done with the whole sleeping together thing. If two beds were good enough for Ricky and Lucy Ricardo and Rob and Laura Petrie, then it should should be good enough for me and ol’ Fisty McRib over there. Oh sure, sleeping in the same bed was great at first, because of ... well, you know why. But now? Jobs and mortgages and two little kids are running us from 6 a.m. to bedtime, and getting a solid seven hours is about all either of us desire once goodnight kisses and hugs are exchanged. Besides - and not to put too fine a point on it - there are other times for other things.

And besides, this whole co-sleeping thing? Relatively modern invention. According to Dr. Neil Stanley, a British sleep researcher, we didn’t start sleeping in the same bed with our spouses until the industrial revolution, when we started moving to cities and didn’t have enough living space. “We all know what it’s like to have a cuddle and then say ‘I’m going to sleep now’ and go to the opposite side of the bed,” Stanley told the BBC back in 2009. “So why not just toddle off down the landing?”

Couldn’t agree more. (Full disclosure: I only used that four-year-old quote because I love the mental image of “toddle off down the landing.” Better than my current mental image, which is “stomp off to the crappy couch and try not to get bit by the dog.”)

To be clear: I love my wife. More than anything. She’s my rock, my touchstone, my cause for cliche. I just think our marriage might be better served — at least at this particular moment in time — if she had the opportunity to sleep through the night without risk of having to violently assault me.

Because that’s what it is. An assault. I don’t want any members of the local constabulary stopping by to take my wife down to the hoosegow, but yes, it does feel kind of assaulty when she wakes me up with a “Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out” body-blow. (She may even yell “body blow” as she does it. Can’t be sure.)

Of course, we’re not alone. I’m not the only snorer in the world, and I’ve seen various studies showing up to 40 percent of couples experience restless nights as a result of one or more of them snoring. Which means I’m also not the only person toddling off to the couch a few nights every month.

Clearly, I need a bigger couch.

Or I could keep the couch and try the other options.

I once spent a night at one of those sleep clinics - my wife still refers to that evening as “the best night of her life” - and I was informed I had a very mild case of sleep apnea (not life threatening, in other words). I was also told one of those CPAP machines would help. I know those machines work, as evidenced by its success at helping turn Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader, but ... no. Not hooking that thing up every night.

My dentist has also told me there’s some double-sided, hinged mouth guard thing he could fashion for me. This device would force my bottom jaw forward and make me look like James William Bottomtooth III from “Family Guy.” It also looks about as comfortable as wearing a hatchet in your skull.

So that’s probably not happening either.

What is happening is probably just more in the way of sleep suffering for my wife and I.

Or ... we could have another kid, which might be on the agenda anyway. Stick with me here: If we have another kid, the baby will sleep in our room for the first few months. Last time we had a kid - our daughter - I was banished from the bedroom for the duration, as my wife didn’t want my snoring waking up the baby. I was sent to the attic during this time, where there used to be a bed, since claimed by my four-year-old son. But - are you still with me? - if we have another kid, my son and daughter will end up sharing a room with bunk beds, which means the other bed goes back up to the attic, which means no more couch for me.

So yep: I want to be a dad for a third time, but only if it means I get to have three months of my wife not punching me awake every other night. I see no holes in this line of reasoning. I am also very, very tired.